Dawnbreaker

*NO NAME AS OF YET*

Nineteenth of Soulfire, 2583 BC

Prince Zarril woke the next day feeling every bit of the fatigue that began to take hold the night before, only in full force this time. He stood up, shook his mane and tail out of their bedraggled state and went to his washroom to take a shower before starting his 'community service,' as his father had put it. This time, Zarril turned on the water using his magic. Hoofshire was a town of Unicorns, as it always was, and their technology definitely showed their vast intelligence.

He bathed in silence, letting the water soak into his coat as he rubbed off the dirt, grime, and blood from his body. Zarril also noticed that the Apothecary's paste had worked; his wounds were sealed and left naught but small scars. They would easily heal over the next day or two. The only words running through the prince's head were 'Swordkeeper,' 'Dawnbreaker,' and 'Guardian.' He could only imagine the type of mystic power that Dawnbreaker held, with its overbearing and lethal presence that was reflected in the area around it. It was hard to wrap his head around the fact that he would become the next guardian of this very blade, the blade that ostensibly bound the Terra Valley together.

Sighing, Zarril shut off the water, shaking himself dry once again and adopting a simple hat and cloak; practical, but still showing his royal heritage. He proceeded down the halls and out the front gates of the keep, walking out into Hoofshire proper. Many denizens waved a hoof and smiled at him, and he did so back. Just because he was royalty did not mean he couldn't associate with the common rabble from time to time. Zarril drifted from shop stall to shop stall, looking for something to purchase. He carried on him a bitpurse full to the brim with bits, and was intent on getting something nice, for himself or somepony else.

After around half an hour of shopping in the market, Zarril had acquired two loaves of artisan bread, a vine of grapes, and a heart expertly hewn from a Deep Ruby. The trip cost him roughly a third of his bits, but was altogether inexpensive for somepony such as the prince. He headed back to the Keep, where he sat in his chambers and calmly ate half a loaf of bread and the grapes. Before he could finish, however, there was an urgent knock on the door. He stood up and trotted over to it, slowly opening the door with his magic as he blinked in confusion. "What is it?" The pony behind the door was a guard stallion, still clad in full metal armour but missing his helmet. "My lord, you must come see this! It's the Terra Valley.. it's... smoking!" Zarril raised an eyebrow, but cast aside the rest of his leisure food and grabbed his gear, strapping it to himself quickly and galloping out the door after the guard.

Zarril followed the guard to the outer balcony, which looked out over the Terra Valley. A gasp and a pupil shrinkage later, the prince looked on with awe as the guard's description, although not very eloquent, was correct. Smoke, purple and ominous, plumed up lazily from the middle of the Terra Valley Forest. Zarril finally came back to his wits, and after a short while, turned to the guard and told him hastily, "Go tell the rest of your watch to keep a wall of soldiers along the western side of the Forest. Make haste!" The guard nodded quickly and about-faced, rearing up and galloping away with great speed. It appeared as if Zarril's community service would have to wait.

He took one last look down at the malevolent smoke before hurrying after the guard. The prince's sword clattered against his side as he galloped down the cliff's path. Zarril noticed that several large groups of citizens were getting a bit too curious; the guards made a bulwark against them for their own good. Nopony knew what was inside the forest, save for Zarril. The prince reached the bottom, coming to a stop in front of the guards, who slid aside briefly to allow him to trot past.

"Be careful in there, my prince."

"As always, guardsman. Stay here. If I do not return within the next hour, send a search party to find me."

"I will do as you ask, my lord."

At that, Zarril nodded and continued into the forest, magically drawing his sword out and holding it in front of him. Instantly after going into the forest, a loud crackling filled the air behind him. Turning around, the prince saw an impenetrable field of shadow magic. "What is this sorcery...?" he asked the air around him, as if expecting an answer. Surprisingly to him, he got one. A voice, dark and raspy, called to him.

"You will fall, Guardian... just like Dusk before you."

It took time for Zarril to process what the voice meant: Dusk was slain. The Swordkeeper of the Valley was dead. This threw the prince for a loop, setting his mouth agape. "That cannot be... It just can't!"

"Oh, but it is, Guardian..." the voice whispered in his ear, as if standing next to him.

Zarril knew he had to get to the Sword, and fast. He dashed away, farther into the forest, following the route Dusk had shown him. All the while, he heard the disembodied and unidentified voice taunting him. After some time, he reached the shrine's location, except the shadowy field of magic was here as well, blocking his path.

"You fight for a lost cause... Guardian. Your predecessor is dead, and now you expect to outmatch my power? Ha.

It's worth a try... thought Zarril, before rearing up and charging straight into the field.

Instantly, Zarril felt white-hot pain explode throughout his body, which forced him to grit his teeth as he sprinted through the shadow. Eyes clenched shut, he pressed on before finally emerging. At once, he doubled over, the pain too much to take. He was all but unconscious. Zarril tried to pick himself up, but felt a hoof press down on him, prohibiting him from moving. Opening one eye, the prince looked up to see who had done this. He saw Dusk looking down at him, except... his eyes were glowing purple, the same shade as the fields of shadow magic.